Ghosts of the Past
by Arashi Maxwell
Summary: “Hello, Noname. Long time no see.” He froze with his hand on his mask. He knew the voice it was one from his past. He turned to see a blonde girl standing nervously in the tent entrance.


This was an idea thought up by my sister. For some reason, she asked me to do it, so here you are. This is my first romancy fic, so please be kind. I do more comedy, so please, just don't hurt me.

This is dedicated to my sister, Link Fangirl01, who spazed when I told her that. It was really funny to see.

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wind. In any way. :(**

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Families from all over the country had come to see the circus. Now the bleachers were packed with shouting children, laughing teenagers, and talking adults, all watching the show. The noise level died down as the lights went out and a voice shouted, "And now for the knife-throwing act!"

There were cheers and a few unintelligible shouts. A single spotlight lit the center, showing a brown-haired woman in a pink leotard with skirt, standing with a knife in each hand. Another light lit a spot several yards in front of her to show a man dressed in a green circus outfit and half of a clown's mask hiding the right side of his face, beneath his brown hair. The crowd took in a collective breath as the woman drew back her arm. The first knife thudded in to the target just beside the man's face. Another one went into the target just below his arm, one between his knees, and one above his other arm. There were gasps every time a knife hit the target close to the man's body. Applause broke out as the woman threw the last two knives cutting the ropes tying the man to the target. The tent lit up once again and the crowd cheered as the two left the tent.

"Trowa, that was great!" The brown-haired woman smiled and hugged the man as they stepped out of the tent.

Trowa smiled slightly at her, "Thanks, Catherine."

Catherine watched as the silent, brown-haired clown walked to his own side tent. A voice called her and she turned and walked away as he disappeared beneath the flap.

Trowa looked around his tent automatically as he entered and removed his mask. He set it down and glanced at his reflection. A face without a name; that was what he thought once. He'd been given a name, and had taken a home.

"Trowa," Catherine stuck her head through the tent entrance, "the Ringmaster wants to do a final bow at the end of the show. You and I'll be on the tightrope." Trowa nodded and watched the entrance absently even after Catherine had left. He had taken a home, and in return, he had been given a family. He smiled slightly and turned back to his mask.

"Hello, No-name. Long time no see." Trowa froze with his hand on his mask. He knew the voice; it was one from his past. He turned to see a blonde girl standing nervously in the tent entrance. Middie Une looked more mature than the first time he had seen her and her hair was longer and tied into a loose ponytail at the bottom.

"Middie," Trowa saw a smile blossom on her face at his recognition. She took a hesitant step in and glanced around the tent.

"It seems you weren't doomed to a soldier's life forever," She observed, watching his face closely. Trowa nodded and turned back to his mask, avoiding looking at her. "But then again, maybe you were. You still have the same emotionless mask."

"And will until the day I die," Trowa turned back around with his half-mask on.

"Not when you're performing," Middie smiled. "My brothers thought the knife-throwing was the best."

"You got them through the war then." Middie looked away from him and nodded. "What about your father?"

"He's better. After the war he got treatment, and it's really helped. I know what you're probably thinking, but he was really against me…doing the job I chose." Middie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "No-name, I should-"

"I told you then, I'm not No-name."

"Then who are you!" Middie's eyes glistened with tears.

"Trowa Barton."

"Fine. Trowa," The tears began to roll down Middie's face, "I should have told you then, but I didn't. I'm sorry, and I-"

"Trowa!" Catherine shouted from outside the tent, "It's almost time for the Ringmaster's big bow, come on!"

Trowa started for the door, passing Middie. She turned and threw her arms around him, stopping him before he reached the door.

"Don't." Trowa could feel her press her face against his back as the tears coursed down her cheeks. "I…I love you. I always have, but I was too scared to tell you then."

"You told me you hated me," Trowa said quietly, disentangling her arms from around him. Middie dropped her eyes to the ground and watched the tears fall.

"Don't cry," Trowa lifted her chin and kissed her softly. Middie stared at him in shock before closing her eyes and kissing him back. They finally broke apart for air and Trowa wiped away the tears on Middie's cheek. She smiled at him as he turned and left the tent.

Trowa leapt into the air, flipping and landing on the tightrope, a hundred feet above the ground. A second later and Catherine swung by on the trapeze, flipped into the air, and landed in Trowa's arms.

The crowd below erupted into cheers as the performers took a bow. Trowa scanned the crowd as they cheered and finally spotted a golden-haired girl. She was standing with three younger boys, with hair varying from blond to brown, and a man in a wheelchair. Middie smiled as she watched him and waved, and he smiled back.


End file.
